Majick in Moonlight
by Zephyre
Summary: The war has ended and Hermione is enjoying a moonlit stroll around Hogwarts that is interrupted by the sound of a maestro at the piano...COMPLETE


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Majick in Moonlight

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co belong to J. K. Rowling and the associated book companies as well as WB films. I am doing this purely for enjoyment and am not making any money from this.

Rating: PG Just to be safe.

Authors Notes: Just a little bit of fluff floating around in my brain. A one chapter once off set just after the war with Voldemort, probably around 7th Year or just after. It is AU to some extent and has no spoilers in it.

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It was an eerily still evening. Crisp and clear as only an autumn night could be, a full clear moon decorating the sky and calling to Hermione. She listened to it's beckoning and left the ancient castle, glad to once again feel safe in wandering it's perimeter alone. The tangible anticipation which had clung to the air for so long was now gone, subsiding in the wake of the final battle in the war against Voldemort. A sadness now clung to the castle walls, tainted with the faint hope of a better future. The fallen would be remembered, a memorial already being established with Albus Dumbeldore's name heading the list of those lost in battle. Hermione sighed gently as she opened the front door, hoping the rays of the Gypsy moon would cleanse the ache from her heart. There were so many faces forever tainted with the mask of death that had stamped itself onto Hermione's mind. Yet one creature that was alive, though often thought of as death personified also haunted her. Since the end of the war he had remained in his dungeon, not trusted by all despite his connections to Albus and the Order of the Phoenix and seemingly stuck in his own wheel of despair.

Hermione walked toward her favourite end of the castle near the rose garden which now appeared skeletal and forlorn. She sat on the moonlit concrete bench and fancied her imagination to have thought up a piano, slow and powerful notes resonating in her mind. Hermione sat perfectly still and listened to the familiar, yet hauntingly beautiful piece. It made her think of Severus, his black eyes and sad demeanour. The strange being that made her heart quicken and was the personification of the dichotomy of light and dark.

Hermione's head shot up as she realised that it was not her imagination, but an actual piano playing, and being played by a maestro. Surprising even herself she broke into a run, determined to find the origin.

Carelessly she flung open the large ancient door, not bothering to shut it behind her and bolted toward that quadrant of the castle. Slowly the notes re-emerged and Hermione stopped, puffing, as she sensed the origin behind a mahogany door that she could not recall. Tentatively she clicked the handle and pushed the silent door forward, watching, as Severus didn't even bother to look up.

It was amazing watching him, the long, pale tapered fingers captured by moonlight and moving with natural ease across the keys. There was no sheet music; it was purely by memory and instinct that his hands caressed each note. He shut his eyes and continued; and for the first time Hermione saw the Severus Snape that could have been, the features far gentler than most would have believed possible and a sense of peace that made him seem more like a man, rather than simply a professor. Hermione marvelled at the way his ebony hair absorbed the moonlight and the way he seemed so lost in the music, his music.

Slowly she walked over to him, careful in her silence not to startle him and destroy the notes that seeped into her soul. She stood behind where he was seated; his peace contagious and she shut her own eyes. Without being consciously aware of herself, she dropped her hands and rested them over his, some long forgotten part of her memory able to anticipate the natural progression of the music. Had she had the perfect vantage point, she would have seen Severus smile, eyes still closed. He had wished for her on this crisp autumn night, his music a beautiful howl calling for a love in the still night air. But not just any love. Her Love. The precocious Gryffindor who was not a beauty, but was beautiful.

Gently he pushed her right hand down to the keys and continued playing with his left hand. Hermione opened her eyes and looked past the piano to a painting illuminated by the moon, as if the giant orb had wanted her to see it. It ebbed and flowed with the music in shades of blues and greens, a gentle yellow capturing the upper right hand side. Severus opened his own eyes, sensing Hermione's awe and dragged his gaze away from her to look at what she was staring at. Again a gently smile tugged at his lips. Slowly he moved his face towards her and whispered 'Exquisite, isn't it?'

Hermione jumped back, breaking the tune and her reverie. Severus simply picked it back up again and continued as though nothing had happened.

Hermione touched her fingers to where his lips had gently brushed her ear and then rested it again on his shoulder. There was no tension, no recoil, just the continuation of the notes.

'It is beautiful.' She whispered 'It feels like it moves with the music.'

Severus smiled, his eyes not leaving the painting. 'You would lead me to believe that you know the origin of the painting, Hermione.'

Surprised at being called by her first name and no longer seeing the necessity for guards she replied. 'No, I don't. I can't even remember the name of the piece you are playing.'

At this Severus laughed. It was a deep resonating chuckle which most would not have believed possible of emanating from the Potions Master. 'I would have thought it obvious, Hermione.'

Hermione liked the way his eyes lightened under the pale ephemeral rays and she smiled. 'Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Opus 27, Number 2.'

"Correct, Gryffindor loses 5 points.' He replied in a growl, distinctly teasing her.

Hermione's brain clicked back into drive and she realised she was in the Room of Requirement. So Severus had felt the need for the painting. The undulating swirls seemed so uncharacteristic for him; she would have fancied him a Mondrian rather than a tidy Pollock. She started to analyse the painting slowly, the piano forever in her consciousness. The use of shadows could easily reflect the darker side of human nature and the swirls seemed similar to a pathway that lead up toward the yellow, whose meaning was evading Hermione's mind. It almost seemed an abstract representation of Severus himself, but the yellow was beyond her understanding. It just did not currently seem to be a part of him.

Severus was once again lost in the notes, but he smiled gently as he felt Hermione step close and rest her head on his shoulder as she again took up the right hand of the piano. They played like this in a comfortable silence, but Hermione could sense a longing, a want from Severus. It was something she was more than willing to fulfil, but her over-inquisitive Gryffindor mind needed answers first.

'Severus, what does the yellow represent?' she whispered into his ear, causing him to shiver but not miss a note.

He looked at her, drank in her teak eyes and messy hair, the freckles that splayed across her nose.

'It represents a new beginning.' He said and kissed her.

The piano stopped.

_Finis_

AN: The painting is Roy De Maistre, 'Rhythmic Composition in Yellow-Green Minor' 1919. To see what it looks like go to: w w w. artwrite.cofa.unsw.edu.au/0124/features/Pegus_colour_music_rooms/pegus_colourmusic. H t m l 


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